This Moment Four Years Ago...

I was laying in bed, talking to Steph. I can't remember what we were talking about. But I felt something and briefly thought, "Gee, did my water break?" But that was impossible, I thought. So I continued talking for a few more minutes. Then I shifted positions slightly and, well, the impossible suddenly became the almost certain. I jumped up and the night that would forever change our lives began. Just about 12 hours later, the boys were here. It seems like forever ago and just yesterday at the same time.

I try so hard to get that sensory memory of holding their tiny little bodies in my arms. But it's gone, lost to sleep deprivation, the terror of something happening to them and the shock of how utterly and completely my life had changed. But it's not just that -- I have a hard time really remembering them as anything but what they are at this moment. And then I see a picture from less than a year ago and I realize how much they've changed, and how much they continue to change, and how impossible it is to really hold them. Just as all the drugs and terror-stricken efforts of a resident on his first night of OB service couldn't stop them from leaving my body four years ago, I can't stop them from growing up and away. Maybe that's why I take so damn many pictures -- it's a futile attempt to stop time, to keep the boys I know at this moment. Because tomorrow these boys will be gone, replaced by the 24 hour older models. And while I love them now more than I know how to express, I still sometimes miss the boys I knew yesterday, or a year ago. But those are just hazy memories, now. No matter how much I think about this and tell myself to burn the memories of today onto my hard drive, it doesn't work that way. I live in the moment, but the moment is fleeting. Such is life.

Regardless, I have the most awesome children ever. They are beautiful, smart, kind, funny and sweet. And that, at least, hasn't changed. Yet. I'll get back to you when they're teenagers.